My Father, The Pirate
by insane.lil.piratess
Summary: Jack Sparrow was never expected to love; but thirteen years ago, he did. And after all this time would he still care enough to save the woman he adored from a grim fate? And would he do so on the account of a thirteen-year-old girl? Sparrabella!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** **Jack, Arabella and all characters from the **_**Jack Sparrow**_** series and PotC itself all belong to Disney and Rob Kidd… not me… :( I also don't own Doctor Grog; I took him from **_**Pirates of the Caribbean Online**_**… I sure love that game!**

**Author's Note:**** Okay, a new story! It's Sparrabella (obviously) with slight Fitzabella… which is terrible… but it was necessary! I got this idea when we were watching the T.V adaptation of **_**David Copperfield**_** in school. Well, that's all so far… enjoy!**

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**--  
**_**Prologue  
**_**--**

It was a dark night when it finally happened; perhaps the darkest night Tortuga had seen throughout the November month. Miss Adelaide Lowly would have generally taken the quickly fallen darkness as a terrible sign – just like her mother had influenced her and her five brothers whilst they were growing up.

But tonight was no time for superstitions; particularly foolish ones.

Shielding the flame of a dripping candle, Miss Adelaide hurried through the kitchen of a small home on the Tortugan shores and dropped delicately to the side of her distressing mistress, tucking the auburn haired beauty into her knotted and torn blankets, whispering to her words of comfort;

"Sshh, Mistress Belle; won't be long now…"

The poor young woman forced a smile of gratitude at her trustworthy maid and best friend. Now, Arabella Smith wasn't of any riches neither of any importance in the world of aristocracy, but usually never failed to pay her loyal Miss Adelaide and the times shillings were tight, the young servant grinned encouragingly with an "it's alright Mistress Belle. I don't stay with you for the money," as she cheerfully trotted back to her duties.

Arabella – countless times – had tried to remember the time she had been as optimistic and bright as Miss Adelaide, although when she grasped said memories, her heart wretched and body tensed up as the pains of the past ripped through her.

You see, the reason she had once been as joyous as her faithful maid was because of one man; the only man she had ever truly loved… yet the only man who clearly didn't care enough to stay by her side, even after all they had been through.

She knew he had his duties and not the most serene life – in fact, he had probably the most hectic life a man could have! – but all the same, leaving her in her physical state – three months pregnant with _his_ child – was practically unforgivable.

But then again, what more could you expect from a pirate?

That had been six months ago. Yet Arabella still hadn't forgotten. And now the memories were more painful than ever. And all because she was just about to give birth to his baby.

She let out a cry of distress as the child inside her squirmed. It wanted to come out. It was ready to see the world.

"How… much… longer?" the mother-to-be panted in between tiresome breaths. Miss Adelaide didn't dare look into her mistress's pained eyes; she bowed her head, letting a few stray golden curls cascade from her cap and over her own sea-blue orbs.

"I-I don't know, Miss," she stammered. "Me Ma' was in labour with little Jerome for hours on end… I-I can't tell meself when it'll come."

Arabella groaned, beads of sweat escaping her hairline and trailing down her brow. It was agony, no doubt about it. As she tried to cling on for the life she felt slipping, Arabella wondered, deep inside her, if this was what the first corner of hell was like.

"Oh, my…" she managed to pant out before she shrieked again in unbearable pain.

"Mistress Belle, you 'ave to push!" Miss Adelaide urged, hiding her own fears for her friend as she allowed Arabella to grab her lilywhite, delicate hand. "Doctor Grog'll be 'ere soon, don't you worry! He can 'elp us, I swear."

Minutes that seemed like hours passed by for the residents of the small shack sitting shyly upon the short hill hovering over the Tortugan shores. While Miss Adelaide held her hand, Arabella screamed and cried, wishing it was all over and done with. She silently begged for Doc Grog to turn up and, amongst screams, didn't stop listening for the knock on the door.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

"That's 'im, Mistress Belle," half-gasped, half-sighed Miss Adelaide, outstretching her legs and rising to her feet. Arabella jerked and clung tighter to her maid, tears rolling from her distressed brown eyes.

"Please, don't leave me," she whimpered with such emotion that tore straight through her loyal friend's heart. Miss Adelaide, however, gently wormed herself free, whispering the words "I'll be back," before rushing from the lounge and to the doorway.

After Doctor Grog's arrival, things ran smoother. He was his usual self, drunk and unsteady on his own two feet yet still seemed to know exactly what he was doing with the young auburn haired woman before him. Miss Adelaide still remained close to her mistress, hardly taking her eyes off her as she winced with the natural – yet insufferable and excruciating – pain.

And then, at sixteen minutes past the midnight hour, born to Arabella Smith was a beautiful baby girl.

Her mother gazed over her, lovingly, planting a small kiss on her head, already sprouting with thin dark hairs. Looking closely at her child, Arabella could see she was truly gorgeous; small button nose, pale skin almost like porcelain and the boldest, most beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

And, although it still hurt her more than she could explain to think about it, they were just like his.

Miss Adelaide smiled, her tray dotted with steaming mugs of tea supported in her hands, as she strode through her friend's midnight-consumed bedroom towards Arabella and her newborn daughter.

"What are ye gonna call her?" was all the young maid could ask, gazing down at the small child, her bright smile dominating the whole of her face.

"She'll always be a part of him…" responded Arabella, her eyes fixated on the sleeping baby in her weary arms. "Her middle name is Jackie, for Jacqueline. T-that's what Jack would have wanted."

Miss Adelaide nodded slowly. "A-and her first name, ma'am?"

This only caused Belle's triumphant smile to spread further across her pale lips. "Her Christian name," she started, glancing straight up at her maid, proudly, "is Adeline. After ye."

Delight warmed Miss Adelaide's pale face like the blaze of a candle on a cold stormy night. She clasped her lilywhite hands to her face in utter enchantment, before throwing her arms – as gently as her emotions would allow – around Arabella and baby Adeline Sparrow.

She could only stammer the words 'thank-you' again and again after Adeline's stirring caused her to pull reluctantly away. Her best friend laughed in response with the words, "ye've always been there for me, and I know ye'll always be there for Addie too."

Miss Adelaide smiled. "Addie. I like it. Addie Jacqueline Smith."

"No, no, not Smith," interjected the new mother, quickly.

"Miss?"

Arabella beamed, looking back to baby Addie, softly. "Look at her eyes, Miss Adelaide… She's not a Smith."

Miss Adelaide arched her perfectly thin golden eyebrow. "Sh-she's not, Mistress Belle?"

"No," answered Arabella with a weak, yet confident grin. "She's a Sparrow. Adeline Jackie Sparrow."

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**Author's Note:** **Aw, how sweet! And Addie is truly awesome, just you wait and see! So, anyway, what did y'all think? It was kinda short but it was either gonna be really long or pretty short, so I went for the second option! ;) I'm like that!**

**Anyways, I have to thank **_Blackgrrl92_** for helping me out on this… when I first had the idea… ages ago and **_nineteennintytwo_** for the title. It's good, don't ya think? :)**

**Anyways, (wow, I sure say that a lot!) I can't wait to hear from you guys! Hell, I'm in such a good mood you can flame me and I'll still be proud! And, I just taught myself how to play American Idiot on guitar! **

**And I just wanna say rest in peace to Michael Jackson. Okay, I wasn't a fan of his music but I was pretty sad when he died. **_**Thriller**_** was the first song I remember hearing on the radio when I was about four… So, yeah…**

**Please review! :)**


	2. Thirteen Years

**Author's Note: Here's the update! Sorry it took a while... the whole laptop fiasco was a bit of a pain for this and _Without a Trace_. But never mind, eh? I'm here and updating like a good little authoress! :D Enjoy!**

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**--  
**_**Chapter I  
**Thirteen Years  
**--**_

Thirteen years could mean – unfortunately – a lot of things to Tortuga's Arabella Smith. Perhaps the years she had been living once again in this town, the one in which she was born and brought back too many memories to provide her a pleasant time. Perhaps it represented the number of years since she had seen the man she – possibly – still loved. Perhaps the number of times she stared at the door in a day, just waiting for him to come knocking. To come back for her...

Or perhaps it was the age of her daughter – _their _daughter – the one he had left behind when unborn and unaware. The one he never knew and the one that so badly, so eagerly, wanted to know him.

There was no denying it; with every year added to her age, Adeline became more and more like her father. Sans for the dark hair and chocolate shaded eyes, she possessed her mother's features – the nose, the warm smile and shine to her brown orbs as happiness overcame her – but her personality... Oh, it was all his.

The way she grinned once escaping the trouble she had caused made her mother chuckle beneath her breath before she had to face the painful truth of disciplining her daughter. Though no matter what Adeline had done – what stall she'd knocked down, what neighbour's cheeky child she'd snapped at – _nothing_ could bring Arabella to yell at her for too long.

How could she stay mad with that girl? She was far too much like her father.

This pleased and pained her at the same time – of course, she didn't want her to change. No, her daughter was perfect. Brilliant, in fact. The only thing that brought the tears to her eyes was the fact nothing was ever going to change: Adeline would never know whose cheeky attitude she had inherited or quick wit she was developing.

At least not for long.

The child pestered her mother and Miss Adelaide day after day, begging – pleading – to be told about her father. Arabella, of course, remained firm, hiding the quiver in her voice as she insisted "no", hands on hips indicating the finality to her rejoinder. Her maid, however, was a different story. Adeline had learned her namesake was an easily persuaded woman. Puppy dog eyes, widened against her sweet innocent face and a few false sniffling and tears got her the name of her long lost father:

Captain Jack Sparrow.

Addie herself wondered a lot about him – whether she was like him just a little bit more than necessary; enough to bring her mother to tears in secrecy, in the darkness when night had fallen. She wondered who he truly was – how many innocent souls he had slaughtered, how much rum he endured each day whilst pillaging, plundering, rifling, looting... He was, of course, a pirate, so what was there to say he wasn't a brutal cutthroat with a desire to pull your very skin from bones? But then, what was there to say he _was_?

She knew her mother; Arabella would have never fallen in love with a murderer... would she?

This caused her – a brave young girl of thirteen – to gnaw deeply down on her bottom lip, enough in fact to draw blood. The metallic taste lingered in Addie's mouth, the swilling of her saliva not enough to defy it. She clicked her tongue sadistically against her teeth, looking more than a little bored, an emotion she gravely did not want to portray. Realizing her mistake, a little, faint groan escaped her tightly pressed lips.

"Ye're not listening," a dark, malicious voice interrupted her trail of thoughts, eyebrow raised high into the forehead of a heavily built up boy, only a mere few years her senior. A gulp slowly coiled down her throat, thickening it with fear.

But Addie had learned to withdraw dread and terror – after all the months and years she had tolerated dangerous run-ins with this pick pocketing gang of fearsome thieves, she had initiated to understand but one thing: do _not_ show them fear. Following her own claim, she hopped tentatively from the barrel in which she sat, puffed out her chest, mirroring the stances of each seven boy before her.

"Um... no," she admitted, steadily, praying to the Lord himself they were unable to hear the anxious roar of her heart. "But... um... Well, _I_ think it's all a little... dense..."

In but a split second, the eyes of Nathaniel Grey, leader and most feared adolescent in the whole of Tortuga, narrowed into green slits, mouthful of decaying teeth bared in fury as he bellowed the simple, yet just as threatening, word, "WHAT?"

Addie's shoulders shook, lip quivering in desperation to be bit upon but she overcame her physical state just barely, replying in a traumatized voice, "w-well... y'know... rules are a bit... overrated for a fearsome gang of thieves, d-don't you think?"

A few grunts rippled throughout the crowds. To Addie's relief, Nathaniel's own shoulders slumped.

"Then wha' do _you_ propose we do, Ad'line, eh?" Barty Finch, a boy most likely exceeding the weight of most adults with his potbelly and five sagging chins. He stepped forwards to Nathaniel's side, glaring menacingly at the young girl before them.

"_I_," Addie began, ushering her eyebrows a little higher at the very thought and shock they had actually _asked_ for her opinion, "I say, as the daughter of the _infamous_ Captain Jack Sparrow, that we should in fact do what we're meant to be doing and go pick pocketing!" With a nervous smile, she added;

"I didn't request to join ye boys so I could sit around and listen to futile _rules_."

Nathaniel's eyes darted back into tiny slits once more. "_What_?" he repeated in a sharp, bloodcurdling growl.

"Um," Addie found herself leap alert with panic once again, "I-I... um..." A diversion, a diversion. It was all she needed. She scanned her surroundings, and yet there was nothing. It was then she realized she had been foolishly backed up into an alley way, in which there was no way of escaping from.

To put it quite frankly, Addie was positively certain she was doomed.

As she continued to edge backwards, Nathaniel and the boys immediately advanced into action with her, smirks only reappearing when her back was rammed against the wall and no paths were left able to run through. Safety was banished. But hope was remaining. She had escaped these ruthless young criminals before, so why should this time – just because she was backed up in an isolated alley way – be any different?

"What do we 'ave 'ere, boys?" the leader chuckled, forebodingly. "A little lost bird. A lost _Sparrow_ with a broken wing. A little Sparrow who can't fly away."

"Um..." she stammered again, chocolate eyes flickering for an escape route. "I..." Anything. Anything would buy her some time. _"Say something_," her inner self agreed in a quick, panicky hiss. Adeline opened her mouth but the words had jammed in her throat, with no sign of movement.

"First," Nathaniel snapped, Addie's shoulders recoiling up to her jaw as he positioned his filthy face inches from her own, "you need ta shut yer mouth before we close it fer good, got it?" Brutally, she nodded, surrender her only obvious chance of survival. Nathaniel spat through his barred, black teeth before continuing on to the petrified child, ignoring her face shaded pale with fear;

"And you do _not_ request to join us. We will _not_ be summoned by _you_, a worthless little _wench_ who's biggest hope in life is ta walk the streets like her _whore_ of a mother."

That was all he needed to say. All this ruthless gang leader need to do was breathe one word of insult toward Addie's innocent mother whose only fault was being to kind to make her snap.

She rose to the balls of her feet with fists scrunched into tiny balls. Her nails dug deep into her palms until they began to ache and she was certain she had pierced through the skin. It was impossible to be menacing next to this young man, but Addie wasn't one to let this go. _No-one_ insulted her mother. _No-one_.

Overpowered by hatred, Addie didn't think. Letting her emotions run through her body, she brought back her fist and slammed it against his jowl with every inch of strength in her muscles.

In pain, Nathaniel yelped. The blow, although it required much potency on Addie's part, was nothing but a mere nip compared to what he was used to. But, oh, the cheek! The nerve of this young girl! How dare she? How dare she attempt to injure him, the leader of a triumphantly malicious gang? Irately, he gripped his long fingers into her shoulders, raising her high from the ground. Lifting Addie level to his own face, he let out a low, threatening growl, pressing her so hard against the brick a painful spasm shot through her head.

"You filthy little brat," he snapped. "If ye have any last words, Adeline, I suggest ye get 'em out _now_."

She was lost. Addie couldn't breathe, her head spinning as her lungs began to give way, the air remaining being crushed by the pressure Nathaniel caused. Her legs were limp so she could not kick and her throat dry so she could not speak.

Her cry for help was an inaudible squeak.

There was no chance of survival. At her final, silent prayer, Adeline wished for her mother. She wished for her safety and security. She wished for her to take her pistol and avenge these boys for her daughter's violent death. She wished. She wished. She wished with everything that wasn't being crushed inside her tiny body.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Three gunshots immediately rang so inescapably loud even Addie, denied of her senses, could hear them. Oxygen began to return to her lungs as she was released, collapsing to the floor in a breathless heap. She heard voices. The malicious ones of Nathaniel's boys entwined with those of two figures she recognised.

"Jean! It's Addie! They were threatening Addie!" was what she could eventually make out. Addie knew the possessor of this voice. Stark. It was Stark.

Lifting her fluttering eyelids up over her glinting eyes, she could make out figures too. Between the stocky legs of the pick-pocketers, the teenage stature of Stark stood cowering slightly behind another. One of which belonged to a man she knew. A man of which her mother knew.

Heatedly, Jean Magliore cocked his pistol once again.

"Get away, _monsieur_," demanded he, through thick French brogue as his gun barrel found its way to Nathaniel's line of sight. Steadily, Jean approached, younger companion with chattering knees close behind. Stark held his breath, black eyes flickering beneath his even blacker hair. He let them rest on Adeline, struggling for breath on the floor as his guardian stood straight before the violent adolescent.

Jean was not a man of aggression and all surveyors knew this. Nathaniel backed down nonetheless, holding filthy hands up in surrender. No emotion flickered over his face as he led his boys away.

"Don't think yer safe, _Adeline_," he called over his shoulder. "Think far from it, ye filthy whore."

As Addie was hauled to her feet, Stark glared at Nathaniel; now with a far distance from his nemesis, he was no longer nerved. The elder, stronger and more malevolent boy smirked in response as he disappeared into the rowdy Tortugan streets where he belonged.

"Jean... I'm fine," Addie choked through raspy breath. "He didn't hurt me that much. I don't need attention." As a close friend of both her mother and once her father, Jean smiled, loosening his support on her waist.

"Sorry, _ma petite moineau_," he stifled a grin as he ran one hand through his ginger hair. Emerald eyes then flickered to Addie's face in seriousness, as did Stark's, immediately withdrawn from their distractions. "Your mother told you not to play around with those boys."

With a nonchalant wave of her hand, she swerved from Jean's presence to stand by Stark's side, arms stubbornly folded across her chest. "I wasn't _playing_... I was merely trying to _join_ them on their... _quest_," she tried, uncertainly; Stark snickered at this, but Jean remained unconvinced. He sighed, muttering to himself in French as he strode ahead, beckoning the two youngsters to follow him.

Knowing what fate – the one in the form of her mother – awaited her, Adeline sighed too, trailing alongside Stark through the winding route home.

"I don't know why you keep trying to join those idiots anyways, Addie," her friend eventually piped up, greeting her gaze with a crooked smile and sparkle of his own black orbs. "You could always join _my_ gang!"

She disconnected the link between their stare by rotating her chocolate shaded eyes to the dusty floor in order to hide her smile. "Stark," she mumbled between slight scoffs, "you don't even _have _a gang!"

In retort, he smiled back to her, his messy black hair falling down over dark eyes and, despite the blazing Caribbean sun, pale skin. He dropped his jawbone slightly, taking mock offence at this which triggered a few sniggers between the pair. It was a moment later when his worded response actually came through;

"We could make our own gang. We'd show 'em all. And Nathaniel would be begging to join _you_ before you know it!"

Addie chuckled, light-heartedly. "Well after today, I don't think I'd let him," she said, booting a nearby stone into a tavern door as Jean began to head up a rough and uneven hill, Tortuga immediately falling silent as they approached the few houses recognised as their own.

"Good call," Stark replied.

She nodded, yet said no more on the matter. Though both these youngsters had been close throughout a number of occasions, in silence Addie realized she knew a diminutive amount of information on this mysterious boy. His age, she was certain, was fourteen and birthday a month or so after her own. From what she knew, he had no family besides his elder sister whom she saw around town, shawl over her snow white blonde hair. Both siblings were very different.

Stark was mischievous yet caring, dishonest yet truthful... Addie herself couldn't cave her mind around his personality. There was something about him. Something untold. Something she would have to bring herself to find out...

"Um, Addie?"

Jean's sudden interruption dragged her attention from her thoughts and pulled her deep brown eyes to his iridescent green ones. "Yeah?" she mouthed, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

To her confusion, and slight amusement, her family friend looked away again, cheeks blushing as red as the usual Tortugan sunset which was already beginning to dawn over the island. Stark too arched one brow, glancing back down to Addie. She kept her eyes on Jean, though feeling Stark's gaze on her, she quickly shrugged.

"Do... do you think Adelaide will be with your mother?" he eventually continued; immediately Addie grinned.

Since Jean had moved from New Orleans to Tortuga, purchasing the run-down shack of a home a few doors down from Arabella's own, whenever in the presence of Miss Adelaide, his cheeks darkened and face heated up. After awkward greetings, the two always engaged in a conversation no-one could break with undeniable sparks glistening between them every time.

"Oh... I think," replied Addie as her lips twitched up into a gentle smile. "She was helping Mum with tea when I left; they should just about be finishing up." It was then her father's daunting grin sneaked to her mouth which never failed to send shivers shooting up his spine. Quickly, she added, "you can still catch her."

The conversation concluded with a nod on Jean's part and a wider beam on Addie's; it seemed Stark wasn't the only one with a secret...

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**Author's Note: Aw, yes, it's Jean! :D And it seems he has a little crush! :) Yay! Romantic Jean! This should be fun! Next chapter should be quite short, so I might be able to update again sometime soon. If I have time to write it. Tomorrow I go back to school, which is... crap, quite frankly! I need at least another three weeks off! **

**Also, there's been a few problems with the Document uploads; I would have uploaded this last night, but it was playing up so I had to wait for today! Thanks nineteennintytwo for enlighting me with your little 'trick' :) Genius! :D**

**And things should be starting to get interesting from now on so... well, I'm excited! :D Especially when Fitzy comes in... mwhaha! Hope you enjoyed! :D**


	3. The Letter

**Author's Note:**** Yay! Updates! :D Hehe, I know, I know I should be writing **_**Where I Am**_**, but I just wanted to get this out into the world! I felt like writing about Addie :) So, here it is...?**

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_**--  
Chapter II  
**__The Letter  
__**--**_

Although it wasn't much – a mere damp, small shack on the brim of Tortuga – Addie knew this was home. As soon as Jean pushed open the half-decomposed door, the scent of a freshly baked apple pie entwined with the tender smell of the vegetables – in which were most likely wrapped into a warm, thick soup by now – wafted beneath her nostrils. Unsurprisingly, a smile found her lips, the instant humble sensation almost curing the sharp sting of her newly forming cuts and bruises.

Nevertheless, Jean was unmistakably grinning for a reason besides this.

Adelaide.

The maid – her young face completely fresh even after a tough day's work helping Arabella loyally around her home – was pouring thick liquid splattered with carrots, broccoli and all kinds of vegetables every mother would yearn for their children to gladly consume into several bowls whilst her golden curls bounced from her cap in a way that made Jean's heart secretly leap inside its imprisonment of a chest. As she hummed a sweet tune as a bird could only do on an unsullied summer's day, her eyes sparkled against the pots and pans, eventually spying the disorientated reflection of Jean and Addie against their polished metals.

"Addie!" she gasped, whirling round immediately. A quivering hand found its way to her mouth in terror; fresh scraps, cuts, blood and bruises covered the child before her as fur would cover a rodent.

"What happened to ye?" she exclaimed, fighting tears from rolling down her porcelain cheeks until she had at least heard the whole story. Bending to mirror Addie's short build, she gripped into the young teenager's arms, hesitant to hit her injured spots. Addie winced; it was evidently clear the formations on her feeble body portrayed more harm than they really caused.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" she shrugged off, shaking herself free. Then, froze dead still, raising one eyebrow at her mother's friend; "do I really look that bad?" Before a reply could be released from Miss Adelaide's hydrated lips, the maid dragged her adolescent housemate into a tight hug which induced a splutter out for air on Addie's part. Once shot an instant 'save me' glance, Jean dragged his intent stare of compassion focussed on the caring woman of his age and interfered with an uncharacteristic and embarrassed shuffle of his feet.

"Sh-she's alright, Miss Adelaide," he started, cautiously. "Being tortured by Monsieur Nathaniel Grey again. I-I think we managed to get there just in time..." Addie rolled her eyes; blatantly, he was showing off. Without meaning to undermine her saviour, the youngster frowned at him, making it rather clear she was certain she could have got herself out of that sticky situation. Jean merely smiled at her, green eyes twinkling as Miss Adelaide turned on him.

"Thank you, Jean. I very much appreciate it," she blushed, vaguely, before turning somewhat sternly back to Addie, "Addie, please tell me ye weren't trying to become a thief with that miscreant and his rotten lads, were ye? Ye know your mother will go ballistic!"

Addie sighed. Was there a point in denying it? Her family knew more than far too well what she got up to when claiming she was going out down the town.

"I know," she grumbled. "_Sorry_."

Miss Adelaide curled her tongue behind her teeth, suppressing a sigh as Addie shuffled her feet, irritably. All she wanted to do was prove herself – all she wanted was to be considered as an equal to Nathaniel and his boys without being constantly undermined.

"What were ye _thinking_, Addie?" Miss Adelaide decided to continue with her ridiculing. "Ye know far too well those boys could o' skinned ye alive!"

Addie decided to take offence at this. Folding her arms sternly and stubbornly across her chest, she pouted, looking distinctly away from Jean and the panicking maid. "Well, I _am_ the daughter of Captain Jack Sparrow, thank-you-very-much. I could've handled it if Mr. Blabbermouth here hadn't _told_ on me," she replied, quickly and childishly. Jean and Miss Adelaide exchanged glances.

"I could have showed them all!" Adeline continued. "And then... and then..." She huffed as her mind halted and rant came to a speedy end. "Well, whatever, but I still could've taken them!"

The speech Miss Adelaide laid upon the bragging youth after this point was becoming quite effective – the maid planned out a cover story which Addie had to admit her mother would have completely fallen for. That is, of course, if Arabella hadn't been standing unseen in the doorway linking the small kitchen to the even smaller living area, hands on hips and brown eyes flashing.

Unfortunately, she couldn't suppress her gasp any longer, particularly as the scraps upon Addie's cheeks were grazed lightly by Miss Adelaide's gentle fingers, even such a compassionate act enough to cause a pained flinch.

"Adeline!" her mother shrieked in one breath, causing a few jumps of surprise as she fell at her daughter's feet, clutching Addie's wrists in her trembling hands.

"Mum, I--"

"Adeline, ye _promised_ me!" Arabella said, highlighting her point.

"But, Mum--"

"Yer father may have been a pirate, Adeline," she continued, both cutting off and ignoring her daughter's protests, "but that doesn't mean ye can take on Nathaniel! It doesn't come in yer blood. Ye have to learn to fight--"

"Then _teach_ me," insisted Addie, but was once again silenced.

"Ye know I'm not signifying violence, Addie," her mother disputed, which confused both her teenage child, but her maid and a lingering Jean who was beginning to get uneasy considering the circumstances. Arabella sighed, "ye must stop doing this..."

Finding no benefits in arguing, the youth just nodded. At this, Arabella's face seemed to light in pleasant surprise, porcelain skin glowing once again and auburn curls seeming to bounce back to their natural position.

"So, ye won't do it again?" she asked, hopefully.

Addie shrugged, messy dark locks sticking to the cold sweat forming upon her neck. "Maybe not," she responded, with a small smile directed at both her mother, Miss Adelaide and Jean. However, the mischievous glint resting behind her chocolate brown orbs didn't put anyone's mind at ease. Arabella bit firmly down on her bottom lip.

"Can I go upstairs?" inquired Addie hopefully – she felt like being alone, away from her family and Jean, though he was practically family anyway, although didn't find herself saying this to the panicking adults before her.

At her mother's nod, she bounced up the crooked stairway in an instant, consumed into their tiny space of two bedrooms and a landing, floored with shipwrecked timbre wood and walled with the exact same material. A rolled up, dusty rug propped against the northern wall which had been never used wouldn't go a miss, she thought as the cold pang of the splintering floor could be even felt through the sole of her shoe.

Addie suddenly snorted, hearing soft whispers of 'I don't know what I'm gonna do about her' and 'it'll be alright, Mistress Belle; she just needs time' muffling among the group of adults below her; she understood her mother was worried, but was sharing her fears with Jean and Miss Adelaide a reasonable thing to do?

Beginning to regret her decision of inquiring some alone time, she collapsed onto the large, king-sized bed she shared with her mother (the spare room – rightfully hers – was used for Miss Adelaide; Arabella was certain Adeline would be able to inhabit the room once their loyal maid left the household for marriage) and coiled into a small ball.

Bored, she reached over to her mother's dressing table and rummaged through the belongings placed there: there wasn't much; a few pieces of discarded parchment and broken quill alongside them, perhaps. Nothing much interesting. Addie sighed, irately.

Until, of course, she _did_ find something interesting.

Resting between the papers lay something neatly scrawled in such immaculate handwriting she knew it couldn't have been Arabella's. Unfolding the parchment in question, Addie skimmed chunks and chunks of flawless script in which she had no patience to read until her eyes fell upon the signature sitting at the very bottom of the page.

Her brow furrowed in confusion; "who's Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III?"

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**Author's Note:**** Heh, Arabella was nothing like herself, but I can live with it :) I'm going on holiday in about two hours sooo I won't be able to reply to you guys until... Thursday? I think... Well anyways, please drop a review; I'm looking forward to hearing from you all when I get back!**


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